As Time Goes By
by Silent Quicksilver
Summary: Samantha Evergreen begins her sixth year at Hogwarts in 1943, but, with a spell gone horribly wrong, suddenly vanishes without a trace. Sirius Black, popular and bored, begins his seventh year in 1977 with a new Professor in Defence Against the Dark Arts: a girl, unable to return home, stuck in a time far from her own. This is their story ...
1. Prelude

_Samantha Evergreen begins her sixth year at Hogwarts in 1943, but, with a spell gone horribly wrong, suddenly vanishes without a trace. Sirius Black, popular and bored, begins his seventh year in 1977 with a new Professor in Defence Against the Dark Arts: a girl, unable to return home, stuck in a time far from her own. This is the story of Samantha ..._

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><p><strong>As Time Goes By<strong>

Prelude

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><p>Drop after drop fell from the faucet, creating a slow rhythm that broke the concentrated silence in the Prefects' bathroom; the air was cold and clammy as the two Slytherin students huddled together over a small diagram on the tiled floor. The boy, irritably brushing a hand through his dark black hair, tried to hide his temper from the girl across of him. "For the last time, should I not take your spot?"<p>

The witch shook her head and looked up, creating eye contact with a smile. "You seem to forget who came up with this entire process, Riddle. _I_ did. In all fairness, it would be only right for me to be the first to attempt it as well." Quickly scurrying through the pocket of her school robes, she pulled out a small, velvet pouch and poured the contents out into her open palm. The female Prefect rose to her feet, amber eyes overlooking their work for any flaws.

"And you seem to forget that, without _my_ help, you would not have been able to complete the spell." Riddle commented as he stood as well, towering a head above the girl. "The Sand was not exactly _easy _to acquire." The ancient runes shimmered faintly at their feet; she had used months before finally deciding the translation was completely accurate and they were now at the final stage of preparations.

With a deep breath, she stepped into the circle. Her heart was thumping loudly in her chest, both in anticipation and anxiety, as neither could with certainty predict the outcome. For all the girl knew, she could be dead within minutes. "I assume you know what to do if I do not return?" Her fellow Slytherin nodded but gave no further response. "Very well. If you please, Tom." They looked at each other one final time before silently agreeing.

He pulled out his wand. _"Incendio_," the shimmering marks of the circle and runes instantly caught fire and the bathroom became illuminated in a bright, purple light; the witch tilted her hand and watched the sand, sparkling in the glow of the fire, get devoured by the flames. "Good luck." When the final grain of sand slipped from her palm, the hue changed instantly to a clear gold; their eye contact was broken as the light completely consumed her.

With a bright flash, she had vanished …


	2. Chapter I

**As Time Goes By**

Chapter I

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><p>It was a tangled mess of colours and light, weaving in and out of her blurred vision. Her body ached in pain as if getting stretched beyond recognition then put back together; her stomach churned but it all suddenly came to an end and she staggered forward. The witch felt her feet on solid ground once more, her head spinning and her mind jumbled. <em>Had it worked?<em> Her eyes flickered across the familiar room, taking in the large tub, the toilet stalls lining one side of the walls. Every inch of the place was exactly the same as moments before, yet there was one exception.

There was no Tom Riddle.

The witch had no time to waste. With long strides, she crossed the room and steered directly towards the oak door; her fingers gripped tightly around the cold door knob, then she paused. Did she really dare go outside? She did not know what she would possibly face just on the other side of the oaken wood, in the hallway on the fifth floor. Her eyes trailed over her school robes; the green and silver Slytherin tie, the newly polished Prefect's badge firmly secured at her chest, and she instantly regretted wearing it.

The students of the school would be able to recognize their own; she would stick out like a sore thumb as a spare Slytherin Prefect. She loosened her necktie, slipped it off her head and tossed it aside before straightening her hair once more. She was a bit more careful with the badge and ran a finger over the large _P_, before tugging it down into her pocket; in stead pulling out her wand, she inhaled sharply. With a soft _click_, the door opened to reveal an abandoned hallway, bathed in a faint glow from the sunlight.

Her eyes cautiously trailed over the armoured suits and paintings as she walked down the corridor. It seemed as if the school was emptied from students so very unlike just moments before, where Tom and she had been forced to enter the bathroom with minutes apart in order to avoid gossip. If the experiment had gone wrong they had both preferred to keep suspicions off of the male Prefect in order to initiate the backup plan, which required no interferences. "Get a move on Samantha," she whispered lowly to herself.

With luck on her side at the absence of other students, she quickly strode down the abandoned hallway in the faint sunlight that reached her through the arched and somewhat grimy windows. Her footsteps echoed around her, her ears perked attentively on the lookout for even the faintest noise; the back of her mind guardedly wondered where everyone was as, if everything had worked out to perfection, the witches and wizards of Hogwarts should have swarmed the castle.

Familiar with the surroundings, pleased that nothing had changed, she weaved in and out of corridors and Samantha quickly, with two steps at a time, ran down the Grand staircase into the Entrance Hall. In and out before anyone would notice her, nothing more; grab all the Dust she could get her hands on and then back to her own time. _Easy_. Her heart hammered in her chest, blood rushing through her veins and pumping loudly in her ears as she almost broke out into a sprint down the dungeons. And then everything went terribly wrong …

Samantha came to an instant stop at the sight in front of her. The tall woman, clad in black robes and a face half covered in the dungeon's shadows, blocked the young witch's path; she inhaled sharply and grasped the wand in her hand tightly, unsure of how to react next. With only a single look-over, the Professor stepped close and, voice pitched in surprise and with a faint Scottish accent, spoke up: "_What_ are you doing here?" Excuse after excuse raced through her mind at that point, panic quickly taking over.

"I- Well, you see … That is-" Fumbling with her words, Samantha bit her lip in surrender. There was nothing else to do. She scanned the older woman from head to toe, lingering at her unarmed hands, and decided it would be worth the shot; practical magic was not her forte but against a defenceless opponent even she had a chance. Hopefully. "There is something I need to get from here. I don't assume you would possibly step aside and let me retrieve it?"

Fingers clutching the wand, she hoped the Professor would let her walk off without further complications, but she knew that was bordering extremely close to impossible. "Students are only first arriving in a month so that would mean you are currently trespassing," Samantha grimaced and slowly drew her wand out from the folders of her school robes. A _Stupefy _and then altering the woman's memories should do the work … Taking a step closer, their gazes locked and Samantha watched as the two green eyes widened in a sudden shock. "_Evergreen?_"

All blood drained from her face as the horrible truth dawned on her. Her mind was swept blank the moment the Professor in front of her had recognized her; Samantha felt faint, terrified and instantly knew the experiment had gone disastrously wrong. Even more than she could have imagined. Everything around her was forgotten as the gears in her head went into a frenzied panic, trying to figure out a solution. Anything that could explain the sickening reality she was stuck in.

It had to be a lie … If she was indeed recognized then … She slumped to the floor, legs sprawled out in different directions and she buried her face in her hands. "That is impossible …" The second witch's voice cracked over. "You disappeared back then yet you haven't aged a _day_?" Samantha picked up the words but, suddenly drained for all energy, did not have the will to even respond. Her earlier plan of overpowering the Professor was long forgotten. _What was the point?_ "What happened to you?"

"What year is this?"

"You can't possible be here, everyone thought you had died-"

"Tell me!" Her head shot up, tears pressing their way into her eyes and blurred her vision. She had never meant for this to happen. "_What year is this_?"

"It's 1977."

At those words the world around her blackened, the revelation too much for her to handle; what had been a childish curiosity and pride in her own abilities had shattered her world completely and Samantha was smart enough to understand the consequences. Meddling with Time was forbidden and now she was to suffer the punishment. The last thing she remembered was the Professor's startled voice as the young witch fainted on the floor. There was no return for her.

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><p>A soft buss of voices reached her ears, eagerly arguing. Her entire body felt heavy in the soft bed, her arms and legs were like lead and she did not want to open her eyes to fully wake up; if only she could sleep forever. But the voices grew louder and louder until Samantha was unable to ignore them any longer and so she forced her eyes open. The bright, warm sun greeted her through the grand windows and, as her blurred vision slowly got adjusted to the light, she breathed in the all too familiar smell of medicine.<p>

She was in the Hospital Wing.

Two figures were huddled together a few beds away from hers, partly hidden by a white curtain that was meant to supply her with some privacy; her body aching, she silently sat up in the comfortable bed to draw the soft fabric further to the side to enhance her view. Samantha's eyes narrowed when she recognized the three; the woman from earlier was currently discussing something – most likely Samantha herself – with none other than Professor Dumbledore. A much older version of the Transfiguration Professor but Dumbledore nonetheless.

"I am not the only one to see the similarity, Albus, there has to be no mistake about this. She is a complete replica of Samantha Evergreen, but that has to be impossible-"

"Calm down, Minerva," Samantha's ears perked at the name, mouth almost falling open as she was possibly looking at the old Head Girl who had, literally, turned _old_. "It is an uncanny resemblance at least, but we should not be too hasty at drawing conclusions. Perhaps we should hear _her_ explanation first."

She pursed her lips. As most other Slytherins the witch was not particularly fond of the grey bearded wizard, but in her current _dilemma_ she almost felt grateful for the old man; if there was anyone remotely close to her own abilities, when it came to that particular subject, it would be him. Quickly withdrawing her hand she allowed the curtain to fall back into place just as Dumbledore had turned in her direction, almost as if he knew what she was thinking.

"It appears our patient has returned to her senses."

Their footsteps approached and Samantha hurried into a defensive stance, pulling her knees close to her head and clasped both arms around her shins; the Transfiguration Professor had sounded merry as always, but she did not trust him – she would not be fooled by any fake masks of kindness. They shortly after appeared at her bedside and she once more scanned them attentively. "You are Samantha Evergreen, correct?"

Samantha had found herself staring into the light blue eyes of the wizard, but as the woman spoke she jeered her head away and brought her attention onto the witch. Even though her mind was still a mesh of shock and dread she had to move ahead; even if she had used up her Sand there had to be some way of returning, a secret spell that was just waiting to be discovered. "Yes."

Lying and keeping secrets would not help her.


	3. Chapter II

I forgot to add a disclaimer to the first chapters, so I'll do it now ... I do not - unfortunately - own Harry Potter. All characters from the books are the property of JK Rowling, but any OCs are mine. But I will allow people to use them for their own if they ask for permission first, of course. The plot is mine as well, so no touching without allowance.

Please do review - and check out my "main focus" story, **It's in our Blood**, with Tom RiddlexOC. Yes, I use this as adverticement.

Review and enjoy :)

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><p><strong>As Time Goes By<strong>

Chapter II

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><p>A tensed, shocked silence had filled the Hospital Wing at her words. Samantha, still hugging her legs and running her fingers over the soft, white bed sheets, watched the two attentively, awaiting a reaction. She had still not completely wrapped her mind around the situation, and whatever the two professors would do to her, she really could not imagine anything worse than what had already happened. What had meant to send her <em>back <em>in time had in stead dropped her thirty-four years into the future, which pretty much meant she was ... well, screwed.

Her eyes trailed over McGonagall, who, what seemed only hours ago, had been a young, albeit strict, seventh year Head Girl; wrinkles lined the corner of her eyes, her hair had turned grey over the years, firmly pulled back from her face, but she could still recognize the witch deep down in the emerald green eyes. "Miss Evergreen, what magic did you temper with for this to happen?" Samantha pried her eyes off the other witch forcefully and found herself staring directly into a pair of light blue orbs; his half-moon spectacles gleamed in the faint sunlight and she frowned.

As expected of Dumbledore to know it was her tempering into forbidden magic that had landed her in trouble … She had been known for her curiosity and imagination, but that did not exactly point to her as the culprit. Did it? "I am fairly sure you already know _what_, professor." Samantha heaved a sigh and brushed bangs of brown hair out of her face. "_Time_. And as you can see … it did not exactly go as planned."

"That is im–impossible," the woman stuttered, her attention whipping back and forth between Samantha and Dumbledore, making the pointy, velvet hat wobble back and forth dangerously on top of her head. "There hasn't ever been any prior cases of time travel and … and– it's impossible!" The youngest witch had her focus on the hat, as the smooth fabric slid completely askew; she was well aware that no one had ever, successfully, travelled through time before, but yet still, there she was.

"You underestimate me, Minerva." She responded, defending her own pride – even if things had gone horribly wrong, she had still performed magic that had not been touched for millennia. "There are several records of wizards and witches that have gone past their own time. People have just looked in the wrong places in their search."

"But you found them," Dumbledore added. She glanced towards him, eyes narrowed as she attempted to decipher the old wizard's tone of voice. Was he actually _amused_? Did he find her predicament amusing? Her tongue trailed her lower lip slowly, and she tried to calm herself. He probably was not.

Samantha nodded. "Yes, I found them. It took me several years to translate the ancient runes – I could not exactly ask a professor, so I was on my own – but I finally succeeded. In _1943_. Unfortunately though, I made a small miscalculation which has now put me on the spot. I can't go home." She leaned back in the bed, feeling the soft pillow give way under her weight and she turned her attention to the arched ceiling, high above them. Small, glimmering specks of dust lazily flickered through the air and the sunlight, warm and bright, cast shadows over the stone walls. She felt tired, exhausted. "I was supposed to go _back_ …"

McGonagall had taken a seat at the bedside; the normally uptight woman's shoulders slumped slightly as she watched the young witch. "Is it not possible to use the spell in this time as well? Then you would be capable of returning home."

"I expect Miss Evergreen would have already done so if possible. Am I correct?"

"Yes," she ran a finger over the bridge of her nose, slowly attempting to soothe the incoming headache and the drowsiness, which had slowly spread through her body. "I require a special ingredient which I do not have with me in this time. Actually, I only had enough for one attempt …" Her muscles ached from the warped travel through time and space, but Samantha forced herself to stay awake and explain the situation clearly.

"Sand. You had planned to go back in time to before the Sand was destroyed." Her eyes shot open in surprise and she stared in disbelief at Dumbledore. He knew. He _knew_. Her mouth opened and closed as she struggled for words. "Rather than going thirty-four years into the future, you planned to go thirty-four years _back_ in time. To be precise, you planned to arrive on the 1st of August 1909 to stop the destruction of the Hourglass." Of course the old Transfiguration professor had figured it out, of course he knew. He had _been _there.

"Indeed … Without it I cannot do a thing."

"But there is something that does not quite add up, isn't there?" She looked him straight in the eye, knowing well what was next to come. A grimace spread across her face and she quickly averted her gaze, pulling the bed sheets up around herself. "A very small amount of sand was kept safe in the Ministry of Magic, if it turned out it was necessary for some, unknown, later use – how did _you_ come into possession of it?"

"I told … _one_ person of my discoveries. He got it for me. But– Professor, I didn't know it was kept at the Ministry! I only read that _some_ had not been destroyed, and I asked him to look into it as well." A small jab of pain shot though her palms as her nails dug into her skin; she balled her hands into fists. Her eyes narrowed. He had said he _bought_ it from someone. Riddle had lied to her! "If I had known he _stole_ it …"

"Who helped you?"

"Tom Riddle, sir."

A complete silence fell over the two professors at her words. Samantha, suddenly discovering that the nice, smart, and always helpful Slytherin wizard had lied, had broken into the _Ministry of Magic _even, felt absolutely betrayed. She was so deep in thought that she did not notice McGonagall and Dumbledore exchange looks, but she was dragged out of her train of thought when the witch spoke: "You told _Tom Riddle_ about time travel?" Samantha blinked, baffled.

"Yes?"

"Oh, Albus! Do you think he will use that against us? Do you think he already has?"

Dumbledore gently patted the fretting witch on the shoulder, attempting to calm her, while the youngest in the room was completely confused at their conversation. "No. I do not believe he has. Miss Evergreen probably did not share all her knowledge with him – rather only told him the most essential pieces of information for him to locate the sand." Samantha attempted to speak, but, with a half-smile at her, Dumbledore cut her off and spoke in his crisp, calming voice: "Please answer these questions first, then I shall explain everything afterwards. We need to know this first: How much did you tell him?"

"I … Well, I told him I was in the need of the sand and why. He was there when I performed the spell as well. But I never shared the translated runes with him, so I doubt he can perform it on his own. No one can, actually. I have barely written anything down on paper – I don't trust my roommates _that_ much to not have them snoop around in my stuff – and it's in codes, which will take a long time to figure out …" She tapped her forefinger against her temple. "The rest is up here. It's the only place I feel _my_ knowledge is somewhat safe."

Even if Samantha respected Riddle – one of the most handsome and popular wizards in Hogwarts that she, admittedly, had a small crush on – she never trusted anyone enough with what could very well be her life's work. She was a Slytherin and so was he. Trust only got you so far and could easily turn to betrayal in the blink of an eye. Which it seemed to have in her case. "So he cannot perform the spell?"

"Of course not! But why is it so important?"

"A lot has happened," McGonagall's voice was trembling slightly, but the woman pulled herself together. Her eyes hardened as she continued. "Tom Riddle has turned to the Dark Arts and is possibly the most powerful Dark Wizard of all times. He has recruited countless of followers into an army, wizards and witches, but also giants and werewolves, that are now terrorizing both the magic and the Muggle world. Those that oppose him get tortured, vanish or end up dead and the Ministry is struggling to catch anyone at all. Imagine if he had control over Time itself, the damage he could do." Samantha felt cold to the bone at the witch's words. That nice boy … It was impossible. It could not be.

"Can't you … Stop him?"

"We oppose him, we have caught several of his followers – Death Eaters – and either killed them in battle, or locked them away in Azkaban. But still, it is an ongoing struggle and he continues to gain power. Hogwarts is safe though … He fears Albus too much to attack the school, so at least all the students are protected." She glanced towards the bearded professor; her previous dislike vanished completely and was instantly replaced with great respect towards the old wizard. Dumbledore was brilliant, yes, but for one single man to protect the entire castle and the entire student population …

"I want to help!" She exclaimed, sitting straight up in the hospital bed and looked at Dumbledore. She was trapped in a time different from her own, yes, but everyone around her, the entire magical world, was in the middle of a war. Her own troubles seemed infinitely insignificant compared to that. "There is no way I can return home, _that_ I know, but at least let me fight this battle as well. Professor, even though I am not the best at practical magic I can still outperform pretty much anyone my age, I'm skilled … I can fight. Please, let me."

Dumbledore gave a smile and shook his head. "Miss Evergreen, I admire your courage, but let me share my thoughts with you. Even during his time at Hogwarts, Tom Riddle was a manipulative young boy – he lied and deceived many people – now, answer me this, do you believe he gave you _all_ the sand?" Her eyes widened.

_No_.

"He kept some …? He gave me only enough for one trip, knowing well it would trap me somewhere if it failed– just so he could use it for himself. To get my notes. So he could use _my_ spell. But he cannot, I made sure no one can do it ... Not without me."

"And what if he discovered you are _here_, in this time? Can you imagine what would happen if he got a hold of you? How many _Crucio _can you withstand before you break, before you share everything you know with him, just to escape the torture?" Samantha lowered her head and stared down into her lap. It was true. She could not join the fight without a risk of getting caught. And break she would, without a doubt. Her mind held far too valuable information for Riddle to get to her …

"Then what do you want me to do?" She whispered, her fighting spirit had been extinguished and left her almost hollow. For a short moment she had thought there had been a reason to it all, a reason why her calculations had been wrong … that she was meant to join the fight against this Dark Lord, an old friend of hers who had turned evil. But no. If anything, Samantha could ruin everything with her knowledge. "I can't go home … and if I'm here they can use me."

"Hogwarts is safe," McGonagall spoke after having silently listened for a long time, her voice calm; Samantha felt the warm, adult hand of the old Gryffindor Prefect in her own. She looked down at it, blinked furiously to fight back tears, and then she nodded. "If you are here you will be safe." A single drop trickled down her cheek and onto the white sheets.

"I can stay?"

"Of course. Right? Albus?"

Samantha glanced up towards Dumbledore, wiping her eyes with her free hand and watched him, her stomach bubbling with hope. He would never kick her out of the castle. "A student of Hogwarts is always welcome, _but_–" She paled. "–how to draw the least amount of attention to you? There are several professors that still remember you, _and_ your disappearance at the beginning of the year. Most believed you to be dead – they still do – so how can we explain your sudden reappearance, and the fact you have not even aged a day since then?"

Her brow furrowed. "I guess, on paper, I'm … fifty." She trailed off lamely, almost laughing at the absurdity. Less than a day earlier she had been sixteen, a young, eager for knowledge, girl and now? She should be wrinkled and old. Samantha struggled to even imagine it. A twinkle appeared deep down in his light blue eyes, and she swallowed nervously. Dumbledore was up to something. "Rather old for a student, isn't it?"

"But the perfect age to pass for a professor."

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><p>The compartment door slid open and two Gryffindors appeared, too consumed in an argument to really notice anyone around them. "As Head Boy do you really think it right to jinx others? Is that your way of acting as a role model for younger students?" Her cheeks were flushed deep crimson, matching her long, curly dark red hair and she walked backwards into the compartment; right after her came a tall boy who, shrugging lightly at the witch, ran a hand through his unruly, messy black hair out of habit.<p>

"It wasn't me–" Her look silenced him instantly and, rather than arguing back, he fell back into one of the seats with a sigh. "He hexed Frank first so I … No, it was wrong of me, Lily. I swear I won't do it again." The witch crossed her arms in front of her chest, strictly staring down at him, before she decided to let him off the hook; then she sat down as well while he fixed his glasses to avoid her stern, disapproving gaze.

"You better not," she grumbled. "Hello to the rest of you by the way, how was your holidays?"

One of the three other wizards present draped an arm around the black haired boy's shoulders with a wide grin. "Don't tell me, Prongs, you hexed someone with Evans right next to you? You never learn," he shook his head resigned and leaned back in his seat, stifling a yawn with a hand.

"Shut up, Pads …" He launched a playful punch towards his friend, half grinning, half frowning. Pads took up the challenge. The two boys then spent the next couple of minutes wrestling with each other and, in the process, knocked several books, candy wrappers and boxes, and even a mousy brown haired boy off the seats. Lily rolled her eyes dignified at the sight, mouthing _'Boys …'_ before, with a light chuckle, she helped the unfortunate wizard back up onto his feet.

"You all right, Peter?"

The chubby boy – at least compared to the other Gryffindors from his year – appeared rather perplexed at the situation, but slowly regained his posture. "S–somewhat," he stuttered, his cheeks flaming in embarrassment while he scrambled back into his seat next to the fourth boy. During the entire ordeal the wizard had ignored the immature behaviour, only giving Lily a quick smile before he had returned to the thick, leather bound book in his lap. He appeared all too used to such event – which, of course, he was – to even be bothered by it. "How was your holiday?"

"Oh, it was fine I guess." She responded, still glaring daggers at the struggling pair, but then she smiled kindly at Peter. "Petunia almost drove me up the wall by the end, her and her boyfriend, but other than that it was all right."

"I didn't know your sister had a boyfriend," the bespectacled boy joined the conversation, face pressed down into the seat below by the, apparently, stronger _Pads_. His face was squished almost beyond recognition, and, in order to overthrow the other, he flaimed his arms around in the air. "Since when?"

Lily, heaving a great, exasperated sigh, ran a hand through her curls and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Then she shot him yet _another_ look. "Since last year, James, where I also mentioned it to you – several times even. It's good to know you listen to me when I speak. Thanks." He gaped at her, suddenly at a loss for words, before he finally managed to overthrow the extra weight; his glasses were crooked, school robes tangled up and his hair a greater mess than usual, but – she nearly slapped herself for admitting it – he did not look too shabby.

"I knew she had a boyfriend, really! What was his name again? Something … I know this one ..."

"Vernon," without even looking up from the book, the wizard responded instantly while brushing a strand of light brown hair away from his eyes, and, in return for his _correct_ answer, earned himself a venomous look from James. He did not even flinch.

"Thank you, Moony, that was _exactly _what I was about to say as well! Vernon. Your sister's boyfriend is named Vernon. I knew that. Vernon. What a ridiculous name, isn't it? I'd never name our children something like that, Lily, trust me on that." He nodded smugly, but Lily merely gave him a blank stare. Then she rolled her eyes. She had - God forbid - gotten so used to such comments that she did not even bother slinging a sarcastic remark back in his face. What did that say about her? She was used to it. _Used to it_!

"At least Remus is nice enough to listen," she spoke, trying to subdue the frantic voice in her head.

"I knew it as well," Pads responded coolly as he had returned to passing time by, once more bored, staring out the window, watching the ever changing landscape pass by in a blur of colours. The way he said it made Lily unsure whether he actually did know or what exactly was going on in his mind, but she decided he was probably lying just to mess with James. That was usually the case.

"Great, Sirius as well … Thanks."


	4. Chapter III

Thanks to the _many _that reviewed the previous chapters. It means a lot to me and I hope I can continue with the sucess and make this chapter just as good - one review said that it was a bit slow (I assume it was the progress of the story). Does others believe so as well? Because I'll try to not make it as dull then and possibly speed it up a bit. I do, though, work a lot with descriptions and attempting to show how their surroundings look like, since that's just the way I write.

But yeah, constructive critisism is very much welcome like that! It helps! But the story will be sped up a bit nonetheless, seeing as they're in their seventh year so they don't have a long time left at Hogwarts.

Though, with that said, I hope to make this a good read for everyone, but I've never really written a Marauders story before so I'm a bit ... uncertain of their personalities still and how to portrait them. With a bit of practice, and a few chapters, I should be able to tune in on it somewhat. If not ... You can always tell me if you find them a bit "OOC". The quicker you tell me the faster I can steer the story onto the right track.

I decided to re-use the "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" that Dumbledore uses during Harry's own Sorting as a greeting to the students because, looking 'into' it more deeply there is actually a really cool meaning behind those four words than just random words of a mad-man. And, well, I couldn't come up with anything that would come even close to that awesomeness. So yeah...

Now, please do enjoy chapter III. And do review!

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><p><strong>As Time Goes By<strong>

Chapter III

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><p>With the air unclear from the bellowing steam from the Hogwarts Express, the Gryffindors left the train along with the rest of the students and descended into the night; Lily's curly red hair vanished in the crowd, the witch meeting up with her friends and the four Marauders were left on their own. They cut a path through the crowd towards the carriages, where James then proceeded to shoo a couple of second years out – flashing his Head Boy sign, going <em>"No one told you this carriage is reserved? Really?"<em> – and attempted to claim it for themselves.

Sirius watched bemused as Remus, shaking his head in defeat, booted James right back out. "To think they made _you_ Head Boy," he muttered, eyes lingering on the carriage as it drove down the path towards the castle, once more filled with the – rather shaken – second years. It did not take long before the four were seated in another carriage that, bumping and rattling, took them back to Hogwarts for another year. Their final year.

"I think Lily's into me." A smug grin plastered all over his face, James ran a hand through his dark hair and folded his arms across his chest. A collective groan erupted from the three other boys. How many times had they not heard _that_ already? "No, really! She was in our compartment! She's never in our compartment! Think about it."

"Perhaps she had just missed my ravishingly good looks over the holidays, Prongs, and couldn't bear to be parted from me - so she had to suffer being with _you_, just to see _my_ astonishingly handsome face. We all know I'm _impossible_ to resist." Dodging the kick aimed at his shin, Sirius held up his hands for a truce and smirked. "Don't worry, really, she isn't my type at all."

"I doubt you are hers either."

"I'm _everyone_'s type and you know it."

"The school term hasn't even started yet, and I am _already _getting tired of listening to you two." Remus rubbed the brink of his nose and shot his friends a look; he, as well as Peter, had silently listened to the conversation – a conversation that they had had several times, _every _year, ever since James had become head over heels in love with Lily Evans. "Perhaps she has noticed how you've changed, and doesn't find you to be such a pompous prat as she used to."

"As I said. She likes me." James agreed, brushing over the _pompous prat _part as if he had never heard it.

The carriage pulled to a sudden stop and the four quickly stepped out – with Peter tripping, and the boy fell, face first, into the dust and a roar of laughter erupted from the nearby students. Sirius and James, both struggling to suppress their own amusement, assisted their friend back to his feet and silenced those around them with a glare. It was fine if _they_ laughed, but that did not mean others were allowed to as well. "Merlin, Wormtail, you certain start the year of with a bang don't you?"

"Shut u–up. I– I think that step is hexed," he stuttered out an excuse, face beet red from the embarrassment as he shuffled after the other boys towards the entrance ahead, brushing dust off his clothes; the great, oaken doors were wide open and warm light poured out into the darkness of the night. A steady stream of robe clad students filed in, the air filled with the clatter and noise of hundreds of voices, laced with excitement.

The Great Hall was illuminated by the light of thousands of lit candles that, reflected against the golden platters and silverware, cast dancing shadows over the walls and the dark blue, cloudless night shimmered down from the enchanted ceiling. As they headed down the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables, several people called out towards them, shouting greetings over the booming racket in an attempt to grab their attention. Sirius flashed a smirk at a group of Ravenclaw girls, making them instantly break out into a fit of giggles.

_"Hey, Potter! Dumbledore must be mental to make _you _Head Boy!" _

_"Hi, Sirius! I missed you!"_

James broke free from the group and steered directly towards the familiar red-head; the witch was caught up in chat with a pair of girls, but quickly created enough space next to her for them to sit. Through his glasses, James caught Sirius' eyes and gave him a meaningful, self-satisfied look as he scooted down next to Lily. He merely rolled his eyes in response and sat down next to his best mate, before he scanned the crowd with a bored expression; a few sixth year girls, some seats down, tried their best to grab his interest, batting their long eyelashes – apparently thinking that to be _tempting_ – and shot him long, flirtatious glances.

He ignored them.

Sirius considered striking a conversation with James, but the latter was completely wrapped up in whatever Lily was doing and barely noted his surroundings, so he turned towards Remus. Before he as much as opened his mouth, all eyes turned towards the newly arrived; huddled together, the first years filed into the Great Hall, with eyes flickering over the many gathered and faces almost white in anxiety, like pale lanterns in the dark.

They were, led by the tall and strict professor McGonagall, ushered to stand faced towards the four House tables, where everyone watched them silently in return. As always, year after year, the Sorting Hat burst into song – spooking most of the first years witless in the process – and it presented the four Houses, earning loud applause for each introduction: "–_belong in Gryffindor, Where dwell the brave at heart_–" All around Sirius people erupted into cheers, and a bulky Chaser from the Quidditch team, grinning broadly at a few catcalls from his friends, even stood up and flexed to everyone's amusement.

"–_Where they are just and loyal, those patient Hufflepuffs_–" Two tables away the yellow and black clad students roared in response, before their cheers were drowned out by the Sorting Hat's voice that presented the third house, making the Ravenclaws hoot in great laughter: "–_Where those of wit and learning, Will always find their kind_–"

When the forth and final house was called, Sirius exchanged looks with his friends and several Gryffindors snorted in distaste; but, from the table furthest away from their own, the Slytherin students mockingly gestured towards the rest and clapped loudly in an attempt to beat the others' cheers. "–_Those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends_–"

The Great Hall fell silent shortly after the song had ended when McGonagall stepped forward, a long scroll of parchment in hand, and she called out the first of many names; a short, shaky looking girl stumbled forward, nearly vanished under the brim of the hat, and was quickly after on her way towards the Hufflepuff table. The Sorting Ceremony had begun. "James, remember we're supposed to guide the first years to the common room after." Lily whispered and sent a sharp look towards the Head Boy at her side, while she clapped with the rest of her house as they welcoming another boy to their ranks. "So don't you dare wander off and do who knows what."

James gaped back at her, mock hurt. "To think you even consider I'd do such a thing! That is appalling." She kept staring. "_Fine_. We'll wait until tomorrow. Sorry guys," he directed his last words towards his friends, who, in return, shook their heads in disbelief.

"Evans certainly has you whipped, Prongs." Sirius responded. They had planned to give the Slytherins a 'welcome back present', but apparently, with Lily hovering over them like a hawk, their fun for the evening was spoiled completely. He caught a brief glimpse of the last first year slipping down into a seat at the Gryffindor table, before Dumbledore called for their attention; the old wizard overlooked the hall, his light blue eyes sparkling through the half-moon spectacles and he held up both arms as he spoke:

"Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before the banquet I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" Most of the older students laughed as they were more than used to the brilliant but mad Headmaster, and they then threw themselves over the feast.

The banquet proceeded rather uneventful; most were starved from the long train ride and, too busy piling food onto their plates, barely anyone had time to talk. Sirius exchanged a few words with two of Lily's roommates along with Remus, the latter politely listening to a long tale of 'this boy I met in Wales', even though his smile became more and more strained from each word he had to endure.

Though, Sirius almost immediately lost interest, as the girls were barely putting together coherent sentences rather than fawning over him; as much as Sirius enjoyed his popularity, he had to admit it was becoming rather dull and boring for him. All the witches as Hogwarts pretty much looked the same. Wanted the same.

Of course that did not stop him from having _some_ fun in their company. Then again, the reason he hung out with any of the girls was not because of their articulate skills as much as _other_ abilities – that also involving their lips, of course. He glanced towards Remus _and_ Peter – the second boy had been, against his will, dragged into the conversation – and they both looked close to snapping, but the curly blonde haired witch had not exactly noticed her audience's lack of interest.

Or Remus' twitching eye.

The two wizards were fortunately saved when the banquet drew close to an end, and a sigh of relief escaped Peter's lips as the witch pried her attention away from them. For the second time that evening the bearded Headmaster rose from his seat and stepped up to the podium; Dumbledore tapped the carved owl, bemused, with a crooked finger and then spoke, his voice silencing all chatter:

"Now that all stomachs are contently filled, I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years – and some of our _older students_ as well–" Sirius felt the professor's twinkling gaze linger briefly on himself and his friends, and a broad grin spread across his face as he exchanged looks with James. Who could he _possibly_ mean! "–should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. Our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you all – especially some older students _again_–" Their grins widened. "–that magic should not be used in the corridors between classes."

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch or their respective Head of House. But I shall remind you all that first years are not allowed to partake in the tryouts. And lastly, replacing the previous teacher in Defence Against the Dark Arts is Professor Evergreen. Please welcome her into Hogwarts." All heads craned towards the end of the staff table, some even half-stood from their seats to get a proper look, where a small, youthful looking witch got up from her chair in response to Dumbledore's introduction.

She gave an awkward wave that died out before she had really started it, unsure how to greet the hundreds of faces, suddenly turned to stare at her and her eyes flickered towards Dumbledore. "How _old_ is she?" Sirius heard someone whisper from down the table, and he gave the woman a quick look over. Not _that_ old, he noted. Young. Professor Evergreen fell back into her seat once more, exchanged a few words with Slughorn and gulped down the contents of her goblet in one go.

"And now, bedtime! Off you trot!"

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><p>Samantha sat in her chair, face down against the cold wood of her desk, and felt completely exhausted. Already. She had just wrapped up her very first class – where she had introduced the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor first years to one of the core classes at Hogwarts, Defence Against the Dark Arts – and the witch had suffered through the same question <em>five<em> times. She had answered the first time! Yet they asked FIVE times! _"How old are you?"_ … If anyone as much as mentioned her age again, she would put them in detention for the rest of the bloody year.

Forcing herself up from her – surprisingly comfortable – position, she slid out of her seat and walked towards the entrance to the classroom; she quickly scanned her schedule on the way and noted what her next class would be. The witch opened the door and peered outside into the abandoned corridor, bathed faintly in the sunlight and she, brow furrowed, wondered when her students would show. Had she mistaken the time? Or the place?

When Dumbledore had suddenly offered her a position at Hogwarts, Samantha had been taken by surprise, but, having thought it over several times afterwards in her mind, she had agreed and accepted the job. She had stayed in the castle for a month, prepping and going over the curriculum and had done her best to push away any unwelcome thoughts; it did not always work, and Samantha would sometimes find herself hopelessly lost, leaned over her work, and knowing she would probably never return home. Minerva had assisted the best she could, but they both knew nothing could really help the time-lost witch.

Samantha had then met the other staff members, as they arrived one by one at Hogwarts, and she was surprised to see only two of her old professors were still teaching. Cuthbert Binns, the ghost that taught History of Magic, had no recollection of her whatsoever – but then again, he rarely noticed _any_ of his students. If he even knew he had students at all or just droned on without an end, she wasn't all too sure.

But it had taken their combined efforts to persuade Slughorn that no, she did _not_ look the same and that yes, she _was_ indeed fifty years old. They had also explained that her disappearance thirty-four years ago was just one big misunderstanding and that – incredulously – she was in fact _alive_. Only after Dumbledore intervened and calmed the frantic Potions Master, had professor Slughorn greeted her fondly with the words _"You were always one of my brightest students!";_ and welcomed her amongst the staff.

Samantha was dragged back into reality at the sound of voices, echoing between the stone walls; she straightened up, fixed her robes and tried to find a proper _professor_-expression as she glanced down the hallway. A large group of Slytherins rounded a corner, headed directly towards her, and they were busily caught up chatting to even notice her. Her eyes lingered on their silver and green crest and felt a tug at her heart; the corner of her mouth twitched upwards just as they came to a halt at the entrance to the classroom.

They eyed her cautiously, hesitant about what to do next. "Welcome," Samantha broke the silence and stepped aside, creating enough space for them to pass by her through the door. A few muttered responses, but most quickly brushed by with only a curious glance towards her; she thoughtfully watched them take up all the seats in the left side of the classroom, where they, still shooting looks in her direction, began to talk together in hushed voices. Samantha crossed her arms across her chest and clicked her tongue in exasperation: back in _her_ days they had always made sure to show their teachers respect – but now? Clearly not.

But then again, they were from _Slytherin_. She imagined they were sizing her up; she shook her head at the thought of possibly being deemed unworthy. It did not take long before the Slytherins were joined by a handful of Ravenclaws and two Hufflepuffs, and she could soon begin class when the last arrived. A bundle of red hair suddenly entered her field of vision and she blinked, quickly turning her attention to the witch in front of her. "Hello, professor."

Samantha nodded in return. A _polite_ one_ …_ "Hello," the Gryffindor – Head Girl, she noticed when her eyes fell onto the badge – passed her with a smile into the classroom, followed by the rest of her House. The last students immediately found the remaining vacant seats and sat down; with a hand through her hair as she brushed it away from her face, Samantha peered out into the corridor once more and shut the door with a faint _click_. Then she passed down the aisle towards the front of the class, turned and looked the class over. "Hello everyone, and welcome to Defence Against the Dark Arts. I am Professor Samantha Evergreen," she motioned towards the blackboard, where she had already written her name the lesson before.

Her attention was caught by a flicker of movement at the back of the room and she – as inconspicuously as possible – tried to see what the boy had just pulled out. The four boys were staring back, polite smiles gracing their features, but one of them had been just a miniscule second too slow; his grey eyes locked with hers and he flashes a grin, showing off his pearly white teeth. Her eyes narrowed.

They both knew he was up to something, and he had to be rather _foolish_ to pull anything with her cautiously watching him. "I will begin class immediately unless there are any questions – keep in mind I do not tolerate _all_ questions before you ask," one of the Slytherin girls in the front, who had almost instantaneously raised her hand, sank back into her chair and gave a defeated shrug at her friends. "I have already suffered through one class of first years asking how _old _I am, and I can promise that if _anyone_ asks me about that as well you _will_ get a detention. You have been warned." Samantha leaned back against her desk and awaited their reaction.

One of the Gryffindor boys indifferently raised his hand and tipped back in his chair. "What House were you in?" He ran a hand through his already unruly dark black hair, and Samantha could not help but notice the uncanny resemblance to an old schoolmate of hers. Her eyebrow flickered up.

"That will have absolutely nothing to do with my classes; in here you will be strictly judged by your talents and performances – and I expect great things from _all_ of you, or I see no reason you would take this class at N.E.W.T-level. Do not waste my time or your own. I absolutely do not tolerate favouritism. But with that said, I was in Slytherin." The group of Slytherins perked up slightly at the news, _clearly_ expecting something of her, but they would have no luck in the matter.

The suspiciously behaving Gryffindor from earlier grabbed her attention once more: "Do you have any sort of illness, mental disorder, or plan to die within this year?" Samantha nearly choked at the question and, gasping for air, she struggled for words while a few students tried to silence their laughter. "Because we're planning on doing this bet – twenty Galleons – and I'd like to win."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, all our professors in this class have never lasted longer than a year." He explained quickly, a broad grin spreading over his lips. "Dragon Pox; an _actual_ dragon; a troll in the northern forests of Austria; a scandal involving mermen; those type of things usually – so we're basically wondering what will off you by the end of the year."

A smirk crept over her lips. Well, she could always hope that within the year she would be back in 1943, but, as luck had not exactly been on her side so far, it was still quite the disturbing thought of possibly teaching in a position that was _cursed_. And, if the Gryffindor had told the truth, the fate of those that had preceded her did not sound all that appealing for her to also suffer from. "As far as I know there is nothing wrong with me, so I am sorry but I cannot help you. Any other _ridiculous _questions or can we begin class?"

"One more thing."

She suppressed a sigh. "_What_?"

"How _young_ are you?"

His question had been the final straw to break the camel's back, and Samantha strode down towards the boy, while everyone turned in her wake to watch; she came to a halt in front of his seat, placed both hands on the desk and looked him straight in the eye. "Are you _sure_ you want to go there?" He smirked in return. "Very well, that will be a week's detention for you …" She trailed off, not knowing the wizard's name; as if he could read her mind he responded, with a smile:

"Peter Pettigrew," his friends fought their hardest to not burst out laughing, the black haired boy nearly toppled down his chair, and her eyes turned to thin slits. Even those behind her giggled lowly. Their behaviour was absolutely _nothing_ like she was used to and she felt absolutely enraged at how they treated her. "And I'd gladly accept detention to be with such a lovely woman such as yourself, professor."

"I see," she spoke slowly and took a step back. "But it is quite clear you aren't Mr. Pettigrew, not with how your _friends _are attempting – and failing at that – to not laugh at what they obviously find to be some witty gag of yours. Nor are you Mr. Lupin, since I have already heard of him from Dumbledore and can instantly distinguish him from the rest of you." The wizard that Samantha had, already at the beginning of the class, labelled as Remus Lupin – due to his exhausted and somewhat ragged looks – flinched, while the boy in front of her paled briefly at her words. None of this went unnoticed by her. "Lastly, there is James Potter. I attended school with his father and _that_–" She nodded at the bespectacled, black haired wizard, who, appaled, mouthed _'that?'_. "–is almost a complete replica of the Potter I knew."

Their dumbstruck faces encouraged her further, even though something in the back of her mind told her to stop, to act more like a professor than an insulted brat, and she finished off with a smile: "Which then makes you, by the process of elimination, one _Sirius Black_. So I shall see you at detention this Friday, Mr. Black." Samantha felt quite satisfied when she returned to her seat. "Oh, and I am in fact fifty. Happy? Let's begin class."

For a professor it had probably been wrong to cut down that harshly on a student, but Samantha was not used to such impolite manners and she would rather put an end to it early than let them push her around. The rest of the class continued in dead silence; not even a single student as much as dared ask a question, and she set them all to work individually. A pang of guilt shot through her gut as her eyes landed on Lupin.

She had had no intentions of pointing him out like that and hoped no one had latched onto whatever secret she had hinted at. Dumbledore had indeed told her about the wizard's _condition_ and, even though a werewolf was a dangerous creature – especially in a room full of young students – Samantha could understand the Headmaster's kind decision of allowing the boy to attend Hogwarts like all others. Burying her face in her hands, she really hoped she had not screwed up …

The class promptly came to an end and all her N.E.W.T-students were eager to leave the classroom; Samantha watched them from her seat, considered calling out to the young lycanthrope, though decided against it just as the Gryffindors vanished out the door into the corridor. But they were not entire gone before they did one _final_ thing …

A Dungbomb rolled into the classroom.


	5. Chapter IV

Hello everyone, thought I would give my stories another shot although I lost interest a while back due to the lack of response (especially on my main story, _It's in our blood_), so hopefully you will enjoy this :) If not ... err, well ... meh! But please leave a review and make a writer happy! :D

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><p><strong>As Time Goes By<strong>

Chapter IV

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><p>They quickly cut their way through the stream of students, hurried to get away from the scene; a few girls squealed as the Dungbomb went off, covering the area outside the classroom in a putrid odor and dark green smoke. Sirius glanced back over his shoulder with a satisfied grin, just in time to see the brown haired professor, coughing and pressing a hand to her face, glaring out into the corridor.<p>

Their eyes met. "_Sirius Black_!" Professor Evergreen barked with a face flushed in anger. "Stay right there!" The witch attempted to get past the panicking students to get to him but, being several feet shorter than most of them, she almost drowned in the crowd. And Sirius of course had no plans to wait for her to catch him. "Everyone _move_! I'm a professor–Merlin's saggy left–_Move_!"

The four boys rounded a corner and slipped past the statue of Gregory the Smarmy; heavily breathing they waited in the hidden passageway and listened. "You know there'll be trouble once she sees you next time, Padfoot." Remus spoke lowly, partly against the prank Sirius had just pulled off, but he could not help but laugh when the Marauders looked at each other.

"Well, we had to use the bomb for something now that Evans ruined our fun yesterday … And Evergreen deserved it." Sirius responded, while, as quietly as possibly, peered out through the gap between the statue and the wall. He quickly leaned back just enough to stay out of sight and shushed the three other Gryffindors quickly. The witch had finally fought her way through the crowd and halted just outside their hiding place, breathing heavily. Her hair was covered in a muddy-green layer of a slimy, yucky substance – she apparently smelled ghastly, since everyone made sure to steer far around her through the corridor and shot her curious looks – her ears and cheeks were burning in anger and, possibly, humiliation.

The secret passage was dead silent, the four boys waiting for the witch to move ahead while they struggled to not burst out in laughter. After what felt like ages – and a long, excruciating strangulation attempt to silence James – the professor muttered lowly under her breath and stalked back towards her classroom, shoulders shaking with seething fury. Sirius exhaled loudly. "Is she gone?" Peter asked and released the bespectacled boy; the latter struggled for air and shot a dirty look at his friends, before he annoyed ruffled up his hair.

"I believe so," Sirius responded.

They slipped out into the hallway and ignored the gaping stare of a first year girl.

"Let's get away from here."

Almost sauntering down the corridor, pleased with their success, the four walked towards their next class looking rather smug. "I don't like how she pointed out Remus' _furry little problem_," Sirius said as they waited for the staircase to change position; his eyes lingered on a pair of Ravenclaws next to them. "It sounded like she's got a thing against _pets_, really. I should've used more than one Dungbomb." With a _click_ the stairs shifted into place and the four walked down, taking several steps at a time; with a shrug, Remus responded:

"A lot of people do. I am surprised she knew about it though," he brushed off the subject – even though it was clear to his friends it bothered him – and he assisted Peter up from the vanishing step; the boy had forgotten to jump over that part and had almost collided with the floor. "I don't see why Dumbledore would tell her."

"Don't mind it, Moony." James reassured.

"It might be since she's the Dark Arts teacher. She's had experiences with such _things _or something like that ..." Peter suggested meekly and flushed at their stares. "I mean– You're right, Dumbledore must've had an odd moment when he shared it with her ... Or something ..."

"He might be right." Sirius cut him off, surprised that the mousy haired boy for once said something that actually made perfect sense.

They stepped into the Transfiguration classroom and found their normal seats, furthest back in the class and as far away from professor McGonagall's watchful eyes as possible. The elderly Head of Gryffindor House had a creepy ability to hear conversations she was not supposed to hear, and the four's gazes shifted around the classroom for any signs of the professor. When it seemed safe, they resumed their conversation.

"But even if there is a _reasonable_ explanation as to why she knows … she shouldn't deliberately point it out in front of _snakes. _We'll get back at her later," Sirius slumped down in a chair, smirked at a blonde Ravenclaw witch that had caught his attention, and stretched his legs with a yawn. "Right?"

"You will get back at _who,_ later, Mr. Black?"

All four boys flinched in their seats, bolting away from the voice and they stared up onto the tall witch in surprise. James nearly tripped over his own chair and smacked against the floor, if not for the fact Remus had been in the path of collision; in stead both boys bumped heads in a panic to act _normal_. "… Where did she come from?" James whispered, somewhat amazed at McGonagall's sudden appearance. "She wasn't there and now she _is_."

"So," McGonagall crossed her arms over her emerald green robes with a questioning look towards every one of them; the professor made sure to create eye contract with the boys one by one, making Sirius feel as if he was stuck in an endless battle of wills. The elderly witch certainly knew how to unsettle her students, even the Marauders who, more than anyone else, was used to getting into trouble with her. "Who's planning on telling me the truth first?"

"About what, Professor?" Sirius attempted a charming smile to escape trouble, but – of course – found it immediately shot down by McGonagall's stern gaze.

He exchanged glances with James, who shrugged resigned and gave him a pair of funny eyes in return that apparently meant something like _'just play clueless' - _although Sirius wasn't all too sure what exactly they meant.

"I know you are all up to something, and as Head of House, I would very much prefer to prevent that _something_." Her eyes narrowed behind her glasses. "Unless that is too late?" At that point in time, several of the other N.E.W.T-students taking Transfiguration had entered the classroom; it seemed they had drawn even more attention to themselves – which, normally was quite enjoyable, but in this case ... less so.

Pranks were usually the most fun if they managed to get away with them.

But things were not too bad just yet, and Sirius had confidence in his own charismatic charms – also since the professor had no actual _proof _of their misdoings. Of course, that was until another person emerged in the doorway, every syllable uttered from her lips came as from an otherworldly voice channeling through the woman: "I. Found. _You_ ..." If the situation had been unnerving _before_, things had suddenly become a _lot_ creepier.

They all stared at her, mouths slightly ajar at the sight. Even professor McGonagall could not help herself. It would appear that the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher had not had time to clean herself from the earlier dungbomb; her hair stuck to her face, her skin coloured in sickly green soot and her black robes were disheveled from her apparent running. At least she was breathing heavily. "Professor Evergreen, what happened ..." McGonagall stopped even before finishing her question and, eyes flashing dangerously, turned to stare at the boys next to her. She _really _did not need to ask.

"Hello, Minerva." A smile graced the professor's features, but the four Marauders could easily spot the fury boiling underneath her calm exterior. "I am terribly sorry and I am aware that you are about to begin class, but if possible I would like to _borrow _these four gentlemen just for a short period of time." Sirius felt rather on edge, having the two professors watch them – McGonagall with her stern, all-knowing observant gaze and the new DADA-professor with a strange mixture of kindness and rage. "Unless of course they have a wish to confess who left that _gift _in my classroom? Then I would merely need one of them."

As if the woman knew exactly who to look at, her eyes locked with Sirius'.

"Oh, professor, you caught me! I merely wished to give a present in order to show my immense gratitude for your existence," he flashed her a brilliant smile that usually made any girl swoon, but, of course, he received nothing but a deadpan expression in return.

"Spare me your flattery, Mr. Black, you are far less charming than you think." She rolled her eyes exasperated. "So, Minerva, I will borrow Mr. Black for a short while, but he'll be back as soon as he's done assisting me. Would that be acceptable?" McGonagall was also watching Sirius and, with a dismissive wave of her hand, allowed him to leave her class. And so, with a reassuring grin at his friends, he stalked out of the classroom after the professor; the last thing he heard, before the door closed behind him, was McGonagall turning her attention towards the remaining three Marauders:

"_Now then ... _what _happened?_"

Sirius and Evergreen spent the entire walk from Transfiguration in dead silence, neither really wishing to speak to the other. In stead, he had taken his time to observe the witch silently, walking a few steps behind her as she emitted quite a foul odor; she was a head shorter than him and, if it was not for the grime covering her face, quite nice on the eye for someone her age. He could not help but doubt that the witch in front of him was in fact fifty years old – the professor came to a halt outside of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

He nearly bumped into the smaller frame at her sudden stop; the witch turned, crossed her arms and spoke: "Now, I had contemplated whether I should let you clean this place with our without magic ... But I decided I'd rather get rid of you as soon as possible, so feel lucky, Mr. Black, you're allowed to use your wand for this."

"Such a pity, professor, for I am quite skilled with my hands." He gave her a wink as he passed the witch into the classroom.

All he received was another blank stare. "Surely. Don't make me change my mind, Mr. Black."

Drawing his wand from within his robes, Sirius smirked briefly as he overlooked his and his friends' work – the dungbomb certainly had worked its charm on the place, covering most of the walls, tables and floor in the same sticky, green muck, and a putrid smell hung in the air; with a soft _click_, a nearby window was opened as Evergreen, still observing him, leaned against the still with her own wand drawn. In a quick, fluent moment she finally cleaned her robes and face with a flicker of a scowl.

"Mr. Black, are you having trouble coming up with a useful spell? I would have expected more from a seventh year student but I guess not."

"Have faith in me, professor, I was merely mesmerized by gazing at your beautiful face."

Yet another blank stare was shot in his direction.

"... Charming," she muttered and rolled her eyes.

* * *

><p>It had not taken long before Samantha could toss out the Gryffindor student, ordering him to go straight back to Transfiguration – much to her displeasure he was more than capable of performing cleaning spells – and she found herself alone once more. She wandered around the classroom, checking each corner, nook and cranny for remains of the dungbomb, but she found nothing. "He really did a good job ..." Samantha caught herself clicking her tongue, yet again acting like a kid rather than a mature professor, she was supposed to be – she had wanted to punish him more – way, <em>way <em>more – for injuring her pride ... the nerves of that _prat_!

Slipping down into her seat at her desk, she flicked her wand once and a large stack of books swished through the air towards her. While the witch turned her attention to her work, nibbling at the end of her wand thoughtfully, Samantha did not notice a few hesitant knocks on the door; but as a head peered inside, the red bundle of hair caught her attention. "Excuse me, Professor?"

Samantha looked up at the witch. "Yes?" Waving the girl closer to her desk, remembering her as the Head Girl from her previous class – the polite one – she smiled briefly in acknowledgement. "What can I do for you, Miss ...?"

"It's Lily Evans, professor," the girl came to a halt in front of the desk, smoothing her robes in the process without really noticing. "And I actually came to see if _I _could be of any help, with what happened earlier after class – as Head Girl I felt responsible for what my fellow students did and so I came to offer my assistance."

At first Samantha merely stared, taken aback by the other's sense of responsibility. "Ah, thank you, Miss Evans, but you should not worry. Mr. Black has already fixed the problems he caused earlier, so it is perfectly fine. It was very kind of you to offer, though." The girl, a red hue slowly creeping over her cheeks, fumbled with the hem of her robes and then, with a quick smile, excused herself once more; but, Samantha noted, Evans continued to hover around briefly as if she had more to say. With an eyebrow raised, she questioned her student: "Is there anything else, Miss Evans?"

The redhead edged closer to the desk, the blush spreading across the rest of her face and even her ears, quickly matching the colour of her hair. "Well, yes ... no ... I–" Samantha patiently waited for the girl's stammering to pass so that she could form comprehensible sentences, slightly amused by the other's behavior. "About what you said in class ... I hope I am not being rude, Professor, but ... About Remus Lupin – what you said about him ..."

At those words Samantha became instantly more attentive and, with eyes narrowed slightly, she leaned back in her seat. Did the girl already know about Remus Lupin's secret or was she merely curious as to what had been hinted at? "Mr. Lupin has a, as you might know already, frail health and I was made aware of this by professor Dumbledore when I was first employed here. _That _is all."

"I _know _about it all, professor, which is why I have to ask you about it. Remus is my friend ..."

So the girl did know about his _Lycanthropy. _Samantha let out a soft _hm_. "There is no reason to be concerned; I believe everyone should be allowed to study here at Hogwarts and so, of course, is he – a _very _gifted wizard, even, have I been told by professor Dumbledore. I am very glad to have Mr. Lupin attend my classes. Perhaps I phrased myself wrongly during class and I do regret that; which I will talk to Mr. Lupin about as well."

The girl heaved a sigh of relief. "I see, professor, I am very glad to hear that."

"Now, Miss Evans, I hope that sets your mind at ease – you should rejoin your friends for lunch now." Wafting her off, the girl, looking rather relieved, gave a small smile and once more excused herself. Samantha watched the red hair vanish out of the door, her face falling into a pensive mask as she rested her head in her hands. _Such a good friend you have, Mr. Lupin ..._

A boy like that would need good friends.

* * *

><p>Lily slipped into a seat at the Gryffindor table, ignoring the wide grin from James as she had apparently – without really thinking about it – sat down next to him. She felt her ears sting in embarrassment, once more cursing her growing interest in James Potter. "Hi, Lily." She responded with an incomprehensible mutter, paying way too much attention to the chicken soup than any sane person would. "Where were you just now?"<p>

Pretending to act normal she shrugged off James' arm, which he had leisurely put around her shoulders – even though she kind of enjoyed it – and looked towards Remus. The wizard had not spoken about it, but she knew he was still bothered by the professor's earlier words. At least she could put his mind at ease for now. "I went to speak to professor Evergreen."

At her words, all four boys quickly turned to look at her. Remus choked in the content of his goblet; wiping his mouth, their gazes locked. "About?"

Lily had never explicitly told the boys that she knew about Remus being a werewolf. There had never been a reason for her to say it out loud, but she somehow suspected they knew, just never bringing it up themselves either. As if everyone felt more comfortable without actually talking about it. "First of all I wanted to talk about that dungbomb and see if she needed any assistance," she gave them all a pointed look. "Which, by the way, I found _very _immature of you – especially _you_, James! You're Head Boy! I know Sirius was the one that threw it, but you are just as guilty – if not more!"

"Who cares about that, Lily?" He brushed over her reprimanding words, earning an appaled look in return. "What else?"

Lily stared at him at first, contemplating whether she should snap at him; but then her gaze once more returned to Remus. The wizard was leaning closer across the table, his pale face forcefully masking the concern that lit his eyes. "Professor Evergreen also said that she was very glad to have Remus attend her classes, as Dumbledore had praised him greatly."

"Really?" She could her the edge of disbelief in the wizard's voice, his tired face slowly cracking into a smile of ease. "She really said that?"

"Yes. So I hope you guys have no further plans to blow up her classroom or something like that ...?"

Her words were followed by a complete silence.

"...Seriously?"

"Just because she doesn't have a problem with Remus, doesn't mean we actually _like _her." Sirius finally joined the conversation; the tall boy stretched in his seat, well aware that his actions sent half the Gryffindor girls at the table into a fit of shy giggles and earned him longing looks of teenage love. _Those pheromones ... _Lily rolled her eyes.

"She didn't say it directly, but I'm fairly sure she doesn't like _you _either, Sirius." Lily responded.

He mock-gasped. "But _all _girls like me!"

"As charming and good looking–" She ignored James' shocked outburst at her side and Sirius' _'obviously I am!'_. "–as you may _think_ you are, there are in fact some girls that doesn't fall for that." Sirius grinned widely at her, clearly not phased by her words. Heck, why should he? There had not been a single witch yet that had refuted his convictions – in fact, every single one of them had just added more and more layers to his unbelievable confidence. "You really are vain."

"We both know I merely state the truth. I am obviously the most attractive person in Hogwarts."

"I remain unconvinced. There are others that are better looking than–" Lily froze mid sentence, well aware she had walked directly into the trap as Sirius' satisfied grin widened further. Resting his head in his hand, he leaned closer. Her eyes widened and she cursed at him in her mind. So _typical_!

"Really now ... and _who_, if I may ask, is better looking?"

Lily flushed scarlet red.

"That–" Grabbing her bag, she shot upright; her curly hair fell in front of her face as she, panicky, responded: "That is none of your business! Homework! I'm going to class!"

Then she stormed off.


	6. Chapter V

Thanks for the nice response to the previous chapter, it motivated me to write this a bit faster than planned. I'm a bit annoyed at the Document Editor since it keeps changing some words so that they begin with a capital letter (it actually did so with both Word and Capital) and it also deletes my "–" ... So I hope you'll all continue reviewing and adding to alert/favs to support the poor writer that has to suffer through the continues torments of uploading! :) Enjoy a rather short chapter but I really wanted to update it!

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><p><strong>As Time Goes By<strong>

Chapter V

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><p>"Evans does know there's still thirty minutes until the next class, right?" Sirius half-smirked as the four Marauders watched the redhead storm off in a hurry. Correcting his glasses, James acted rather nonchalant but was failing miserably to hide the goofy grin that was taking over his face; he was more than interested in knowing just <em>who <em>exactly Lily found more handsome than Sirius – because that went radically against the popular belief of the female population of Hogwarts. "But I might actually agree with you, Prongs, she might actually be into you."

"That's exactly what I'm thinking as well." Sirius aimed a kick at the other from beneath the table. "What the hell?"

"Nothing," he shrugged. "Just that grin of yours getting on my nerves. You look ridiculous ... Like a love-sick puppy."

James chucked a bit of bread at his friend's head, still not able to wipe the pleasure off his face. Perhaps Lily really did like him after all his troubles; running after her for the past couple of years, pestering her into dating him and it might finally have paid off. "Actually ..." His gaze flickered towards the entrance into the Great Hall, clearly considering something. "Think she'd actually go with me to Hogsmeade this time around?"

"You should try."

This time the _three _Marauders watched as their friend hurried off. "Think he'll be in luck this time?" Peter wondered out loud, stacking pancakes onto his plate while Remus continued to stay quiet; Sirius watched his two fellow Gryffindors, briefly wondering what was going on with Moony. He was probably still caught up what Evans had said earlier about the DADA professor.

"No way, he'll be turned down." Sirius chuckled.

"Didn't you just say Lily fancies him now?"

"Possibly, but there's some serious denial going on so, heck, she might actually shoot him down even harder than usual." With an arm slung around the brown haired wizard's shoulders, Sirius changed the direction of the conversation knowing James would come back to them with news of success, or failure, after his newest attempt at his love. "What's up, Moony?"

With both elbows on the table, Remus rested his head in his hands as he silently watched the clear liquid in his goblet. "Nothing much," he replied. "Just thinking about what happened earlier, and I must admit I agree with Lily; you guys shouldn't disturb Professor Evergreen anymore. It's our last year and we have exams coming up–" He was cut short as Sirius, with a barking laughter, smacked his back with a shake of his head; black hair whirling in all direction, grey eyes gleaming.

"Don't be so uptight, Moony! This is our last year so we have to go all out!"

"You're really bored, aren't you?"

Remus received a grin in answer. "Pretty much, yeah."

* * *

><p>Samantha's forehead had started to crease during the following class, as she was this time watching one of two fifth year groups that would attend Defence Against the Dark Arts that year; she had no idea what went through the mind of those that fixed class schedules – whoever believed it to be wise stuffing Gryffindors and Slytherins into a room together for hours was seriously <em>wrong<em>. It was _not _a good idea – rather, it was a _very bad _idea indeed.

She passed back and forth in front of the class, weighing her wand in her hands as she, with a defeated expression taking over her features, watched the fifth year students. "Now, I honestly have no idea what could possibly have persuaded you all to believe it was tolerated to _jinx _someone – in _my class _even, while I was _looking_."

With a hand pressed against his bloody nose the Slytherin boy shot a look in the direction of the other House; he had, upon entering class, been met with a rather nasty Bat-Bogey Hex – which, if Samantha had to be completely honest, was performed almost perfectly – and the unfortunate wizard's friends had immediately jumped at the challenge. This of course resulted in a large brawl, toppling both tables, as well as students, over.

And the classroom had finally been cleaned after the previous incident ... It had taken quite a struggle for Samantha to seperate the two houses until she finally – albeit rather late – remembered she a witch in possession of magic. "I had not done a thing, Professor, so I believe a punishment should be in order."

Samantha watched him indifferently, though, noting in the back of her mind, that the boy was quite all right on the eye – if not for the blood splattered nose and angry glare that was directed at her.

Who did he think he was, telling her what to do?

She was well aware of the consequences and responsibility she had as a teacher.

_Students nowadays_, she thought grimly. "Stop dripping blood on my floor," with a flick of her wand, the bleeding was stopped momentarily and she turned her attention towards the other student that had thrown the spell in the first place. "And you, I hope you're aware that your behavior is unacceptable and will be punished ... I will deduct fourty points from Gryffindor," she raised her hand at the protests erupting from the Slytherins at what they believed to be nowhere near enough. "This ends _now_; if anyone prefers to complain then perhaps I should take into consideration what happened _afterwards_. You were all part of this."

A silence fell over the students.

Samantha ignored the angry glares from the Slytherins, and she had a feeling they were far from done with the other House. Now she only hoped they would at least settle it _outside _her class; although they were not exactly meant to fight in the hallways either, she really wished for just one class to pass devoid of events. It was her first day!

"Return to your seats," she ordered harshly. "Class will begin."

Turning a page in the textbook, she considered her options silently. She had to make changes in her curriculum plans.

"I had planned to start off with a practical spell, the _Reductor Curse_, which I believe would come in handy in these ... dark times." Samantha paused once more, painfully inviting unwelcome memories back although she had tried her best to ignore them. Her eyes trailed the students. "But now I may have to reconsider whether I should allow such irresposible _children _to learn it ... For I fear you would rather use them on others than to their actual purpose. _Self-defence._"

A few groans of disapproval erupted, and it seemed they finally understood the consequences of their actions.

If they wanted to be treated as adults they would have to act like ones first.

"So," the witch gave a faint smile. "I will have you all write a two feet essay on the proper and lawfully correct way of using spells, with at least three examples of defensive spells in duels. Only those that hand in an passable essay will be allowed to partake in next week's practical lessons. Do I make myself clear?"

Yet another uproar met her question, several of the fifth years raising their hands to word their arguments.

"I could make it three feet," she suggested in return. This, of course, silenced them. Another smile crept over her lips. _Thought so ... _Samantha returned to her seat at the front desk, while the others fumbled through their belongings, pulling out parchment, ink and quills. For a short moment she actually considered whether she was being too harsh on them, but decided against it. It was better to beat down any rebellious attitude in the upstart – at least that was what her own professors had done and it had worked.

One by one, Samantha took in the features of her students; she could not teach them anything if she did not know what exactly they planned to _use_ her teaching for. Minerva had told her that a handful of the students – Slytherins in particular – admired and planned to join Riddle's ranks once they graduated from Hogwarts. Perhaps some of them were already recruited? How could she with a clean conscience give the tools to torture and kill other witches and wizards – Muggles even?

Even though the students in front of her was only a year younger than herself, she still had a responsibility as their teacher to help shape them for a bright future, not one of pureblood fanaticism. And so, a good place to start, was of course by stopping them from attacking and antagonizing each other ny randomly hexing people. Samantha shook her head.

... Still, it was a well performed curse ...

_Perhaps I should use it on Black ...? _She nearly slapped herself at the outragious thought. What kind of professor was she supposed to be? The guy was admittably a self-satisfied and pompous twat, but was that really enough of an excuse – especially when she had just explained her students how _wrong _it was to hex others. _Unbelievable._

At the end of class, the students one by one filed up to her desk and placed their essays in a pile. Samantha was greeted with absolute silence from all of them, until she, remembering something from earlier at the sight of the Gryffindor crest , paused a girl on her way out. "Could you possibly hand a note out for me?" The witch asked, quickly scribbling down a few words and ripped the parchment in half; handing it over to the girl, she continued: "Could you pass this on to Mr. Black later today, please?"

She had forgotten to tell Black about the time and place of his detention.

"Which Black?" The blonde asked, uncertain as she took the handed note.

Samantha blinked repeatedly. "... There's more than one Black?"

"Yeah, there's his brother; Regulus Black." The Gryffindor pointed back towards the good looking, bloody nosed, Slytherin from earlier; when Samantha looked closer, she could actually see the resemblance between the wizard and the older brother – the same dark, curly hair, grey eyes and overall good looks. As if through a sixth sense, the boy looked up from his bag at the mention of his name and so Samantha directed her full attention on him:

"Do you plan to create as many problems as your brother?"

"I would hope not," he responded.

"Good ... The _other _Mr. Black, then." The girl seemed awfully eager when she knew it was the Gryffindor brother, a flush taking over her cheeks and Samantha suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. "Preferably today, but I'm sure you'll give it to him on your first chance." Heck, the witch would probably run off to him immediately with how she looked at the note in reverence.

* * *

><p>"S–S– Sirius," as the Marauders stepped out of the Potions classroom, their last class of the day finally over, they were met with the beet red face of a fifth year girl. Taken slightly aback at first, Sirius immediately gathered himself and shot her a flirtatious grin in return; she wasn't too bad. "I was told to give this to you ..."<p>

He took the parchment and quickly scanned the letters with James leaning over his shoulder to sneak a peek. "What's this?" Peter noticed how they had stopped, halfway caught up in the stream of students filling the hall and he caught Remus' attention – face burried in a book – causing both to pause and look back towards them. "Detention, eh?"

But Sirius was busy looking at the appointed time. _'__Immediately'_, so whenever he got the note she would expect him to come running like a faithful dog? "I guess that means I should do it now?"

"It would seem like it ... So you're going to abandon me to run off to your precious sweetheart?" His bespectabled friend mock-sobbed into his shirt. Sirius rolled his eyes. Their behavior earned them a couple of amused glances from the people passing by; the air was clammy and damp, with a faint smell from the potions they had just brewed. He pushed his friend off of him.

"Just as you did earlier with Evans?" He ignored the response of _'That's an entirely different thing'_ and in stead, with Remus and Peter cutting their way through the current of students, added: "I should be back before dinner but what'll you guys do until then?"

"I'll probably ..." James trailed off, eyes flickering to the side and he ran a hand through his hair. "Go write that Potions essay."

He stared blankly at his friends as they in absolute shock and horror watched him.

"I'd never imagine hearing Prongs voluntarily suggest studying ..." Remus muttered, earning him a punch to the shoulder.

"Lily just passed by," Peter added.

The look turned to pity.

"... Go die, you guys."

They climbed the stairs from the dungeons, but as they came to the upper levels the group split in two. Remus, making sure to not miss the golden opportunity, had headlocked James and dragged him towards the library under great protests, with Peter in tow; Sirius, on the other hand, parted from them on the second floor and headed towards the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

He paused for a moment outside the heavy door, hand resting against the wood.

Then he knocked.

"Come in," the witch's voice invited him inside and so, putting up his trademark smirk, Sirius stepped inside.

"I have answered your summon, oh beautiful–"

"Don't even get started," she responded and resulted in his smirk widening. The professor was seated at her desk, a large stack of parchment piled up in front; her brown hair was pulled back tightly and she looked up briefly, resting her quill against the bottle and waved him closer. "I had a feeling you would get the note fairly quickly ..." Sirius took a seat on the edge of her desk, casually stretching his legs and pointedly ignored her raised eyebrow; he lifted the first couple of pages in the pile, trying to make out the handwritings of the titles.

With a quick slap on the wrist from the professor's quill, he withdrew his hand. "What're you doing?"

"My job," she responded blankly.

"So, professor, what can I do for you this time?"

Evergreen paused, biting the tip of her quill as if she was thinking. "Right ... I'll need you to ..." Her brown eyes trailed the classroom. "Move all the tables over to the left side of the room. Oh, and, just since this is a punishment you can leave your wand here with me." His eyebrow scooted up at the weird request – he was not exactly a newbie at detention but he had never been told to do something as odd as _that_. But, with a shrug, he pushed himself off the desk; pulling his wand out and, with a _clack_, leaving it, he went for the first table.

Sirius made a big deal out of rolling his sleeves up when he noticed her eyes on him. He muffled a chuckle with his arm as she mumbled something incomprehensible, but he was fairly sure he heard the words _'narcissist' _and _'brat'_; he grabbed ahold of the firste table and lifted it with ease. The room was filled in a golden glow and a silence fell over the pair as Sirius began his work.

As he moved the third table, he suddenly caught himself shooting glances in the witch's direction ever so often.

She had once more begun nibbling at her quill – Sirius wondered if it was some habit of hers? – brow furrowed slightly in thought as she corrected papers; a strand of loose, curly hair fell into her eyes and she impatiently tugged it behind her ear. "You know," her voice suddenly broke the quiet, comfortable stillness of the room, forcing Sirius to pause his own trail of thought. "I met your brother today – Regulus, was it?"

His face darkened momentarily, resting slightly across the table but his changed expression did not go unnoticed by the professor. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yes, he got a nasty hex thrown at him in my class today. It seems it runs in your family to get in trouble ... especially in my class," her brow furrowed at the thought, clearly not finding that thought all too appealing.

"Well, that's about the only thing we've in common then."

A delicate eyebrow was raised at his words. But, much to his surprise, the witch did not dig further into the conversation and rather returned to her papers. "Very well." For the remaining time it took Sirius to finish his task, neither of them spoke; finally pushing the last table into position, he felt his shirt cling to his body from the labor, hair stuck to his forehead and he wafted his hands in front of his face, creating a small, cooling wind. He breathed heavily. "Are you done?"

He threw out his hands and motioned towards the neatly stacked tables. "Indeed I am."

"Good," she pointed the feathery quill at him then towards the cleared space on the floor. "Now move them back, please."

Sirius's jaw dropped. "What?"

"You heard me, Mr. Black."

He crossed his arms across his chest, appalled watching her. "What exactly is the purpose of this?"

"Who says there's a purpose behind it? I had given you a detention and had to come up with _something_, so I thought I might as well have you move stuff around to keep you busy. It feels very much like a punishment, correct?"

At first he merely stared, dumbstruck, but then he regained his posture and grinned. "Admit it, professor, you just wanted to see me sweat, didn't you? You have a thing for handsome boys doing manual labor and that was your excuse."

Once more he was fairly sure he heard her mumble _'narcissist'._


	7. Chapter VI

Sorry for being awfully slow with updating. Got kinda stuck in a depressing circle of evil that basically revolved around homework, reports and exams, though I had planned to update this story last weekend but alas, now is the time! I really didn't have a lot of inspiration to write either so that didn't make it any easier (probably the lack of reviews, hint hint)...

Thanks to the reviews and I'm very happy **dearmaggie** corrected my mistake of Padfoot/Prongs since that's a rather awkward mistake to make. So if anyone spots those or similar feel free to point it out for me!

Samantha has become a bit of a mean professor in this one, which wasn't quite what I had planned but I can actually work with it better than my first plan, so I guess that isn't exactly an issue. Hopefully ... She's going down a slippery slope and it's not always easy to stop again! Also, the chapter might end a bit abruptly but I had to cut it off there or continue for quite a bit more which I didn't really want to, so I hope it's not too awkward!

So do review and enjoy! :)

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><p><strong>As Time Goes By<strong>

Chapter VI

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><p>Samantha slumped down into a vacant seat at the High Table, squeezing down in between the burly corpus of Horace Slughorn and the smaller frame of the Charms Master, Filius Flitwick – her hair was a messy, tousled knot pulled away from her face with her wand firmly sticking through; she stuffled a yawn with the back of her hand and scanned the front page of the Daily Prophet tiredly, noting the front page title in large prints:<p>

_'__DEATH EATER ATTACK TARGETS WIZARDING FAMILY'_

"Rough night, Professor Evergreen?" Flitwick asked in a squeaky voice, sounding almost as if he was commenting the weather rather than the witch's big, black circles under her eyes and saggy posture in the chair, almost as if she was starting to liquify; with a faint smile at the other professor, she shrugged lightly and poured a cup of tea, watching the steam vanish into the air in front of her.

"One could say that, yes ... I was busy burried in work so that I forgot the time," with a quick look at the Potions Master, she nudged the newspaper away from below Slughorn's elbow and spread the article out fully in front of her. "Who would've thought correcting papers would take so long?" Samantha mused, but her attention was fixated upon the text and a frown spread across her features the further down the page she came.

The front page picture showed the crumbled ruins of an old building; bricks and debris covered the surrounding area where a couple of wizards were huddled together as they took in their surroundings. A small text below the picture caught her attention: _The Bones family managed to escape prior to the Death Eaters storming the house .._.

Samantha felt a wave of relief wash over her; it was sometimes hard to remember exactly what the wizarding world was going through at the moment, when she was protected by the safe walls of Hogwarts and Dumbledore's immense powers. But – eyes overlooking the Great Hall and the many students gathered there, eating breakfast – she realized that all of them had family, parents, or siblings at home. How often would they fear the morning mail, dreading the death of a loved one at the hands of evil wizards or witches?

At that moment the young witch made up her mind. As the teacher in Defence Against the Dark Arts it was her responsibility to at least give them tools to defend themselves; she could only hope they would use it only for that and not to attack others ... Her eyes lingered briefly on the Gryffindor group, nose wrinkled slightly in thought; she had spent the evening before correcting the seventh years' papers and discovered all four of them had handed in essays that could only be described as _bloody perfect_.

... That of course bothered her to no end.

Samantha looked away once more, in stead turning her attention to the rest of the morning newspaper; stabbing a sausage to chew on, the witch turned a couple of pages, trying to find a more cheerful article to start off the day with. The mere thought of today's classes made her sigh heavily; she paused at the _Fiendishly Difficult Crossword _and quickly scanned the clues. _42 Across ... the colour of the Quaffle_.

"Red ..."

* * *

><p>Sirius watched with a blank stare as his friend's face edged closer and closer to the mug. The other boy, moping, seemed almost as if contemplating whether to drown himself in the hot, steaming beverage or not; James had been sulking heavily ever since his – failed – attempt at wooing Lily into going with him to Hogsmeade the evening before. Just as predicted, the red haired witch had declined with great ferocity and snapped something that could probably be boiled down to <em>'go drown in the Black Lake, you twat'<em>.

Apparently James had interpretated that as drowning himself in his freaking _mug__._

But then again – with how pathetic the bespectacled boy looked at the moment – _any_ kind of liquid would not change the depressive sight.

And so the Marauders were able to start off their day, observing the depressed bundle of black hair, drowing in a cup of tea ...

"Well, this really puts me in a good mood." Sirius commented, lowering his head with a slight tilt so that he was able to create eye contact with the sulking wizard. "It can't have been _that_ bad–" He rolled his eyes in exasperation at the answer – _'it was _awful_!' – _and in stead, stretching his arms above his head, leaned back in his seat and scanned the row of Gryffindors. "–Get over it, you sissy."

"Just because you haven't ever been shot down by a girl ... Have a bit of compassion, Pads." The disgrunted response came out muffled, almost creating a slight eccho through the ceramics as the face was pressed further against the hard edge of the mug.

"Sure, sure ..." Sirius agreed half-heartedly.

Without even the slightly shred of pity, Sirius decided to leave the poor soul to drown in peace, which James in return seemed quite satisfied with. Remus turned his attention back to a book with a resigned shake of light brown hair, huddled together with Peter as they attempted to finish their Transfiguration homework – or rather Peter's homework, as the boy had been busy throwing explosive chocolate crackers at random first years the evening before.

With a quick wink at a sixth year girl, pleased with the reponse, Sirius' eyes trailed further down the Gryffindor table until – with an eyebrow raised faintly – overlooked the professors.

Dumbledore looked amused, watching the antics of a few first year wizards through his half-moon spectacles, not even the faintest crack in his composure as one of the boys' hair caught fire; McGonagall at his side; with her, as always, observant gaze – like a hawk, lurking about for prey – forcing Sirius to quickly look away, sure the witch could feel his gaze if he lingered too long.

"Isn't it about time we head out for class, actually?" Peter's voice broke the silence.

The mousy haired boy waited for a reply and, as Remus glanced towards his watch, begun shifting through his bag to create room for his homework. "I guess it is," the other responded and quicky rose to his feet. Sirius decided to follow the two, stood up from his seat and took a few steps to the left as he positioned himself behind the moping fourth Marauder.

He paused for a moment, contemplating his next move and pointedly ignored Remus' warning tone.

So many delightful possibilities ...

Moments later, after a very loud yelp and a cascade of Earl Grey tea, the entire school watched in bemusement as Sirius bolted towards the open doors with a furious James, pretty much _drenched _to the bone, close behind. Both Remus and Peter looked after the two, disappearing outside the Great Hall and then, with a resigned sigh, the shorter boy asked: "I guess Sirius expects us to take their bags?"

"It would appear to be the case ... I quite feel like leaving them here, though, don't you?"

"Yes. I most certainly do."

And so the remaining Marauders escaped the scene, leaving behind a large puddle of tea and two abandoned and soaking wet school bags ...

When Remus and Peter finally caught up with their friends it was outside the classroom where the chase had come to an abrupt end; it appeared James had caught up and quite ferociously tackled the other wizard to the ground. And so both of them were sitting on the cold floor, backs against the wall and with hands pressed against their heads, letting out soft groans ever so often.

"What happened ...?"

James, rubbing his forehead tenderly, muttered an incomprehensible answer, waved his free hand at Sirius and then gave up responding whatsoever. Sirius, with both eyes closed and one hand to the forehead and the other on the back of his head, spoke: "The moron jumped me from behind ... Not only did he smack my head against the floor but he even headbutted me on top of it. So if _anyone _is supposed to be in pain it's bloody well _me_." With a leg he aimed a kick towards his friend with a scowl.

Their shoes connected and a loud _thud _echoed in the otherwise deserted hallway.

"Of course it hurts ... your thick skull could crack open even a Gringotts vault." James retorted sourly.

Their bickering flared up once more, although neither had the will nor energy to actually move from their spots and so they rather began flinging insults at one another. Their two friends quietly watched the ridiculous – and, quite frankly, pathetic – quarrel, fairly sure they would run out of steam in no time. And, as predicted, both Sirius and James slumped back down shortly after, running out of useful smack talk.

"I feel sick ..." James muttered, burrowing his head against his knees.

Unfortunately for the poor boy, things – of course – got worse, as they always do.

With light flootsteps Lily Evans stopped up in front of the pair, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised in half apathy and the other half just purely out of disbelief. All four boys could predict the incoming storm manifested through Lily's almost palpable fury; and so, wisely, both Remus and Peter quickly created a distance between themselves and the red haired girl, pretending they had absolutely nothing to do with the scene.

James shrank back visibly, paling several shades and he glanced towards his retreating friends, silently begging them to save him. On the other hand, Sirius was far too consumed with the thought of whether he had actually gotten a concussion, pondering if perhaps a trip to the hospital wing would be a good escape at that very moment.

"So, then, which one of you would be so kind to explain to me what exactly you idiots were doing earlier?" James, clearly in a frenzied state of panic opened and closed his mouth as a goldfish out of water, but was given no time to reply before Lily thundered on. "This is your last year at Hogwarts and you still behave as if you're _eleven_! Haven't you ever considered growing up just a little bit– For crying out loud, you're meant to be rolemodels for the younger students but in stead you much rather blow up tea mugs in broad daylight!" She took a deep breath to steady herself. "Now ... I have long ago given up hope for you, Sirius, and I know nothing I say could possibly change that, but ... _James_! You're Head Boy! _Head Boy_! Have a little respons–"

Lily was cut short as Sirius raised his hand in order to silence her. Her eyes narrowed into thin slits but she remained still, arms once more crossed tightly across her chest. "I would just say that James did not exactly have anything to do with the _explosion_. That was purely me. And also, Lily ... right now, every word you say is pretty much killing my head so I get it. I shall reflect on my actions so just ... please, be quiet."

The redhead pursed her lips, eyes flickering between the two wizards until she finally gave up with a sigh. "Just this once, Sirius. But I swear, if you pull another stunt like that I will personally see to it that you will hurt _a lot _more. That goes for the both of you." She shot a pointed look in James' direction before letting the two boys off the hook. "Of course I can't promise the professors won't punish you."

"Anthing is fine right now," Sirius muttered, dropping his head to the side so that he rested against his friend's shoulder.

With a quick glance towards the curly black hair against his arm, James placed his own head on top of the other and closed his eyes with a sigh of relief. "Just leave us to die here."

"No need to be that melodramatic." Lily rolled her eyes. "_Boys ..._"

Shaking her head, she decided to leave the two wizards to drown in their lake of self pity and moved towards the remaining Gryffindors. "Are you really fine with this? I'm not quite convinced Sirius really _gets _it." Remus spoke quietly, making sure to keep his voice low enough for their ears only. Lily replied with a smile.

"Oh, I am _sure _their punishment will be just." At Remus' questioning look, she added: "Have you forgotten what class we're having next?"

All three looked towards James and Sirius.

"Right ... Truthfully you can be quite brutal, can't you?"

Lily merely continued to smile.

* * *

><p>Samantha paused in her steps, hand on the door knob and brow furrowed lightly in wonder before she aired her thoughts out in the open. "Why are there two corpses outside my classroom?" The two seventh year wizards were slumped against each other, looking awfully pale and with legs and arms sprawled out in every direction as a couple of ragdolls. For a brief moment the professor kept watching them, unsure how exactly she was meant to act but then finally she decided that it had all been a fiction of her imagination and, in truth, she had seen <em>nothing<em>.

Absolutely nothing.

With a soft _click! _she pressed open the door and stepped into the classroom. Loud, chatting voices followed in her wake as students filed in after her; she paused at the doorway, overlooking the faces of her N.E.W.T. students. One by one, she matched face with the corresponding name and recited them in her mind.

She made sure to create eye contact with Remus Lupin and Samantha smiled – what she hoped was – a reassuring smile. Her eyes followed him through the classroom until the werewolf found a seat at the back of the class, Lily Evans on one side and Peter Pettigrew on the other; it did not pass her attention when the female Gryffindor gently placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and whispered something with a smile.

Lupin nodded lightly in response and squared his shoulders.

Finally, Samantha pried her eyes away.

When the hallway had been cleared, she quickly peered out and, with a blank stare, asked: "Mr. Potter and Mr. Black, do you plan to attend my class today?" Her eyebrow scurried up when the answer came out as nothing but a loud, incomprehensible mess of groans and – what sounded a lot to be – despair. Samantha decided to interpret it as tacit agreement. "Good. Please close the door after you and make it quick." With that her head vanished into the classroom once again.

She picked up her bag and pulled out the class' essays, steadied the wobbly pile of parchment and began handing them out.

"I must say I am pleasantly surprised at all of you. Truth be told, although some are better than others as it tends to be in these cases, I haven't come across any essay I could not pass ..." Samantha weaved in and out between the tables and only looked up briefly at the sound of the door being shut; both wizards hurried to their reserved seats amongst their friends and collapsed into the chairs, where they proceeded to bury their faces against the desk. "Glad you could both join us. Mr. Black, Mr. Potter. As I was just telling your fellow classmates, you have all passed the test. Therefore I believe it is in order we start working with more _practical magic_."

A few excited mutters escaped the silence of the classroom and Samantha smiled briefly.

"I expect that you will not disappoint my expectations of you as N.E.W.T. students and will furthermore conduct yourself with both poise and, more importantly, be self-conscious of your actions both _in _and _outside _of this classroom." She paused in her steps, noticing the name written on the essay on top of the pile and smacked the parchment against the related author's head, pointedly ignoring the _'ow!'_. "A clear example of what _not _to do was performed earlier today by Mr. Black here–" Another _'ow!'. _"–who performed a well executed–" She smacked him again. "–_Bombarda _charm on the actual tea rather than the mug itself, and could give Mr. Potter a nice bath without causing any severe harm as shattering the mug most certainly would have inflicted." She hit him a little harder. "This indicated Mr. Black had an excellent control of the spell."

She moved to hit him once more, but the wizard bolted upright and grabbed ahold of the parchment with a hand. The corner of her mouth twisted up into a crooked smile. "Thanks, professor. I do believe it was a excellently performed spell as well." He responded coolly, attemting to pry the essay from her hands but she tightened her grip further as their eyes locked.

"_Unfortunately_," she added. "The very use of the spell further suggest that Mr. Black has not fully grasped the actual _purpose _of the aforementioned charm. And therefore," with satisfaction, Samantha released her grasp on the essay and allowed Black to retreat with a scowl in her direction. "Well, I shall ask the class. What does Mr. Black's previous inappropriate demonstration of the _Bombarda _charm indicate about his understanding of magical usability?"

Samantha overlooked the class while handing out the last essays. There was no sign of hesitation from the Slytherins, as they one by one raised their hands to answer her question; as she moved through the classroom towards her desk, she flicked a finger towards a thin boy with long, black hair framing his face. "Yes, Mr. Snape?"

From the corner of an eye, the indignation and anger in Black's face was unmistakable, but Samantha directed her attention towards the Slytherin wizard just as she leaned against the frame of her desk.

"It would appear that _Mr. Black_ sees magic as a toy to rid himself of boredom and as means to seek attention – much rather than its actual purpose, as in the case of Defence Against the Dark Arts, it is in his case rather used to attack others. Which clearly conflicts with what you have tried to teach us, professor." Samantha nodded slowly, considering the wizard's words.

"Now, I cannot say whether or not you are right about your psychological analysis of Mr. Black, but thank you for your answer, Mr. Snape." Samantha paused momentarily as a thought struck her and she immediately muffled a scowl. _You did it again_, she thought quietly to herself. What kind of teacherwas she? If anything she was a bloody _bully_! _Honestly _... At that very moment Samantha disgusted even herself. "But enough of this. Let's begin class."

Samantha quickly made the students break into pairs and take to the open floor area. She moved to the middle of the gathering, rummaged through her robes until she grasped her wand; then, pointing a finger at a nearby Hufflepuff girl, with long braids and a heartshaped face, to get closer, Samantha proceeded to explain the lesson of the day.

"It would appear that your previous professors have had difficulties covering the set curriculum, due to continuously having to take over without much of a warning. So it appears you are actually lacking in certain areas; especially the curriculum from your fifth and sixth. So I have decided we shall start out slowly to make sure everyone can keep up and also to cover the most basic defensive spells, then increase the difficulty when you are ready. Of course I expect it will not take too many lessons."

She looked towards the Hufflepuff witch, standing nervously across from her, sending glances towards her friends ever so often.

"Miss Abbott, I assume you know how to perform the Disarming Charm?"

"Y–yes, professor."

"Excellent. Please take out your wand then, and try to use it on me in a moment." With an encouraging smile and a faint nod, Samantha turned briefly towards the rest of the class. "I assume some, if not most of you, already know the spell I am about to perform. If so, there will be no need to be impatient about it since I am merely using this exercise to gauge your current level of skill."

Then, with a nod in Abbott's direction, she raised her own wand.

"Go ahead, Miss Abbott."

The young witch cleared her throat, then clearly stated: "_Expelliarmus_!"

A jet of red light appeared from the witch's wand and Samantha, already prepared with her wand raised to her face, quickly flicked her wrist to conjure a bright, transparent-blue shield that reflected the Disarming Charm directly back towards her student. Samantha patiently waited for Abbott to retrieve her wand, which had flown several feet away from her, before speaking to the class: "Can anyone tell me what spell I performed nonverbally just now?"

Only a few raised their hands this time.

"I'm sure more than this know the answer," she urged further, baiting a couple of Slytherins to join. Samantha nodded towards a Gryffindor. "Miss Macdonald?"

"I think it was the Shield Charm? _Protego._ At least that's what I think when I saw the blue shield."

"That is almost correct, Miss Abbott, but what I in fact did was use the _Protego Duo_, which is similiar to the normal Shield Charm but slightly more powerful. I will still Award 5 points to Gryffindor though, since you correctly spotted the characteristic traits of the charm." Samantha paused brieftly. "And this charm is what you shall be practicing today; I have decided you have to figure out _how _I did it in pairs, so I hope you paid attention to my demonstration and if not, I can inform that there is a small segment in your book that covers the spell."

Samantha withdrew from the group of students and, discarding her wand, took in the sight before her.


End file.
